The Pale Banner
The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a gray curtain stretched tight against the window of the watchtower. I wiped the condensation from the glass with a sleeve that had long since lost its crispness, the wool felt like sandpaper against my skin. Below, the town of Oakhaven slept beneath a blanket of mud and silence, the only light coming from the erratic flicker of the gas lamps along the...
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